


Stratwood

by redlipstickblackdress



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Crazy fan, F/M, False Accusations, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Romance, Television
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 20,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipstickblackdress/pseuds/redlipstickblackdress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The head writer of a murder mystery TV show is accused of murder when a string of murders take place that imitate her show.  Greg Lestrade is on the case, but he's torn between the evidence stacked against her and his attraction to her.  Meanwhile, a new medical examiner starts working with Molly, and she has a lot in common with Sherlock, and even Molly can put aside her own feelings enough to see that the two would make the perfect pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soup's On

“Holly Shannon, head writer of popular BBC murder mystery series Stratwood, is suspected of murdering her husband after he was found dead today in their London flat. Daniel Shannon owned a computer manufacturing company which has since been purchased by his brother. Sources say that the marriage was unstable. The cause of death has been reported as arsenic poisoning…” 

Greg Lestrade watched the news report with his feet up on his desk, his laptop resting on his thighs while he drank his coffee. If he was going to have to interview the suspect, he thought it might be best to gather as much information about the case as he could. So far, it seemed like the beautiful American television writer was the prime suspect for the murder, although in every clip and interview he’d seen of her, she’d seemed much too sweet to be a killer. However, sometimes those were the most likely to be crazy. 

The detective inspector closed his laptop and got ready to head to the suspect’s flat. Fortunately, he could leave Anderson and Donovan behind this time – usually they just made everyone uncomfortable, which was very unhelpful while trying to get information out of someone. 

When he arrived at the flat, the door was answered by a very distraught-looking Holly. She was even more beautiful in person; in her late 20s with brown hair that fell to her shoulders in pretty waves, gray-blue eyes, wearing a vintage khaki dress with black tights and red lipstick. She looked like she’d stepped out of the past. 

“Mrs. Shannon? Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, New Scotland Yard,” he showed her his ID. “I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding your husband’s murder.” 

“Of course, come in, Detective Inspector,” she said cooperatively in her American accent. She couldn’t help but admire the handsome man in front of her, with silver hair and brown eyes. He had a kind face – something she hadn’t seen on a man in a while. “Would you like some tea?” He nodded yes and she poured him some from the antique tea set she had on the coffee table as he sat down on the couch. She sat down in the chair across from him with her own tea. 

“Mrs. Shannon, could you tell me where you were the day your husband was found dead?” 

“I was in my office, writing. I received a call. I have a girl come in and clean once a week, and she’s the one who found him.” 

“How exactly did he die?” 

“Arsenic was put in his soup. Just like in the first episode of my show,” she said, as if it were painful. Her voice cracked a bit. 

“Mrs. Shannon, who cooked the soup?” 

“I did,” she answered honestly. “I made it earlier that day and left it in the fridge for him to heat up.” 

“The reports say that your marriage wasn’t a happy one?” 

“No. He…I think he was cheating on me. He would sometimes get drunk and be rough with me. He called me names, told me I was worthless…” she trailed off, not wanting to continue talking about her husband’s abuse. Lestrade gave her a sympathetic look. It was hard to believe that anyone could mistreat the woman in front of him, but he knew he had to be objective about the evidence. 

“Mrs. Shannon, did you love your husband?” he asked. She paused for a long moment, looking into her lap, then looked back up at him to answer. 

“No. I did when we first got married, but I haven’t now for some time.” He looked at her for a moment, processing the information. She spoke again. “You think I did it,” she said understandingly. “Of course you would. I…I would probably think the same thing in your position.” 

“Mrs. Shannon, I’m not accusing you. I’m just trying to discover who did this.” She nodded. 

“He was cruel to me – he has been ever since our wedding. A lot of people have been cruel to me. I don’t handle it by killing.” Lestrade just looked at her a bit sadly. He felt bad even having to put her through this, but it was best to investigate every option, and he hated to say it, but so far, there was a lot of evidence pointed at her. She had motive and means. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” he asked kindly. 

“It could be anyone,” she said. “Daniel didn’t have many friends. Everyone I know was always telling me how much they hated him.” 

“You said the murder resembled one on your television program?” 

“Yes. The first episode of series 1, ‘Soup’s On.’ A man is killed when his…his wife…put arsenic in his soup.” Holly turned white when she said this – everything she confirmed just made her seem like the most likely murderer. Lestrade just nodded and put his tea cup on the table. 

“I don’t have any more questions at the moment. There are some other people I would like to speak with before continuing the investigation. Would you be available for further questioning should something new come up?” 

“Of course, Inspector. If you need anything at all from me, let me know.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Shannon. I’ll be in touch.” She walked him to the door of the flat and gave him a sad smile. She hoped that this whole thing would be cleared up soon.


	2. She's Just Like Him

Mandy Harper, a medical examiner, had just transferred from King George Hospital to St. Bartholomew’s and waited to be shown around. Her curly red hair was tied back at the back of her head, black-rimmed glasses framed her hazel eyes, and she was wearing a white lab coat and her new name tag. A moment later, a woman appeared in a lab coat with long, straight, light brown hair tied on the side of her head and hanging over her shoulder. 

“Hello. I’m Molly Hooper,” she smiled, offering her hand. Mandy looked at it blankly. “I’m to show you around,” she added, trying to be friendly in spite of the failed handshake attempt. 

“Excellent,” was all Mandy said. 

“Oh…you’re American?” Molly asked, noticing the accent. 

“Obviously,” Mandy replied bluntly. Molly gave her an odd look but began walking Mandy down to the morgue. 

“So…what brought you to England?” Molly asked politely. 

“Don’t make small talk,” Mandy said. “Small talk bores me.” Molly stared at her. “What?” 

“Oh…nothing, it’s just…you remind me of someone I know,” she said. 

“Doubtful.” 

“Um…so…would you like to see a body?” Molly asked awkwardly. “One’s just come in today.”

“Show me,” Mandy said, her face lighting up a little bit. Molly pulled back the sheet that was covering the corpse. “Ah, Daniel Shannon.” 

“What? How did you—”

“His wife consults me for her television program. She writes for a murder mystery program and needs me to help her describe the victims.” 

“Oh, Stratwood? I love that show.” 

“I don’t watch it.” Molly just looked back at the body, pulling on latex gloves and offering some to Mandy. The latter examined the body for a moment, then began speaking. “Arsenic poisoning, evident by the white spots on his fingernails. It was put in his soup – tomato soup, judging by the residue on the sides of his mouth. His throat is red and raw – he shouted a lot. His wedding ring has been removed regularly; he was unfaithful to his wife and probably abusive.” 

Molly stared in surprise, but decided to keep her mouth shut. This new medical examiner sure sounded a lot like a certain consulting detective she knew.


	3. She's Not an Idiot

Lestrade sat in his office with Anderson and Sally Donovan, two of his colleagues. They mostly just annoyed him, but he couldn’t work on the case alone. He had also texted Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective, to help. The man was a bit socially inept, but he was a genius and Lestrade often needed him. 

“If you ask me, it was her who offed him,” Donovan said, hands folded across her chest. She didn’t even know why they were still here. All evidence pointed to the wife. 

“Of course she did it,” Anderson said in his nasally voice. 

“I know it seems like that, but something’s not right. I need a second opinion,” Lestrade said. 

“You have a second and a third,” Donovan said, indicating herself and Anderson. At that moment, a tall, thin man with a pale face and glossy dark curls entered in a coat and scarf. Sherlock Holmes. Behind him came his flat mate, a sandy-haired army doctor. “You invited the freak?” Donovan asked Lestrade in disbelief. 

“Oh, just arrest the wife and be done with it. It was obviously her,” Anderson said. 

“That was an amusing attempt at brilliance, Anderson, but what is obvious is that it was not the wife,” Sherlock said. Lestrade looked very interested.

“I’m sorry, who are we talking about?” John Watson, the army doctor, suddenly asked. 

“Holly Shannon,” Lestrade told him. “Her husband was murdered, and she had a motive.” 

“It wasn’t her,” Sherlock said again, frustrated that everyone was ignoring him. 

“Hang on,” John said. “Holly Shannon, head writer of Stratwood? The 1920s murder mystery about the young woman who solves crimes?”

“That’s the one,” Lestrade confirmed. 

“Mrs. Hudson and I watch it every week. It’s brilliant,” John said excitedly. Sherlock looked like he doubted its brilliance. “Did you meet her?” he asked Lestrade. “Is she as attractive as she looks on the telly?” 

“Even more so,” was Lestrade’s reply, which made Donovan roll her eyes. 

“She’s a murderer,” Anderson said incredulously. 

“SHE DIDN’T DO IT,” Sherlock said loudly, finally shutting everyone up. 

“How do you know?” Lestrade asked. 

“She’s the head writer a popular television program, one that she’s very proud of, and her husband was killed in imitation of one of the crimes on the program. The average person is an idiot, but not that much of an idiot. This murder not only brings negative media attention to herself, but also to her television show. If she were going to kill her husband, she would have been careful to avoid any methods of murder depicted in her writing. It couldn’t have been her. Obvious.” 

Lestrade had to agree that Sherlock had a point. 

“If it wasn’t her, then who was it?” Donovan asked, annoyed that Sherlock had a good point, and refusing to admit it. 

“Could have been anyone,” Lestrade said. “Daniel Shannon had loads of enemies. No one I’ve talked to so far has had anything good to say about him.”

“Well, it had to be someone who watches Stratwood,” John pointed out. 

“It seems like everyone who knew Daniel Shannon watched his wife’s show. It’s very popular,” Lestrade said. 

“I need to see the body,” Sherlock said absently, placing his long hands palm-to-palm in front of his lips. “Come along, John. We’re going to St. Bart’s.” Sherlock and John left, leaving Donovan and Anderson speechless, while Lestrade set to work looking on new leads for the case. He trusted Sherlock’s judgment entirely – if he said that Holly Shannon wasn’t the killer, she wasn’t the killer.


	4. Sherlock's Mirror

Sherlock and John entered the morgue to find that Molly wasn’t alone – there was a young redheaded woman in a lab coat. John noticed that she was very pretty, although she hadn’t put much effort into looking dolled up. 

“Hi, Sherlock,” Molly smiled. 

“I’m here too,” John pointed out. “No one cares? Alright.” He was ignored. 

“You like him,” Mandy said to Molly bluntly. 

“What? No…we’re just friends…I…” Molly stammered. John looked curiously at Mandy while Sherlock just looked confused. “What can I help you with, Sherlock?” Molly finally asked, changing the subject. 

“I want to see Daniel Shannon.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, walking with him toward the body that Mandy was examining. Mandy looked up, narrowing her eyes at Sherlock. 

“Hold on, Molly. Who is this? Why does he want to look at the body?” 

“Oh, this is Sherlock. He sometimes helps the police with murder cases.” 

“Obviously,” she said, making Sherlock look fascinated. “Yet, I fail to understand why I should let him examine this victim. He can’t possibly tell us anything I haven’t already figured out.” 

“Prepare to be surprised,” Sherlock replied dryly. He deduced everything he could from the body, and Molly looked at him awkwardly. 

“Mandy got all of that,” she informed him. Sherlock looked interestedly at Mandy, who was ignoring him. John and Molly exchanged a look. 

“That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” John said, referring to how much the new medical examiner was like Sherlock. Molly just gave him an understanding look. The dynamic between Mandy and Sherlock would surely prove to be interesting.


	5. Sherlock Makes Things Awkward

Holly Shannon opened the door of her flat to find Lestrade standing there with two men. 

“Come in, Inspector,” she said, letting them all in. 

“Mrs. Shannon, this is Sherlock Holmes, a detective I consult on particularly difficult cases.” 

“Hello,” she said. 

“My colleague, John Watson,” Sherlock introduced, knowing that John was one of this woman’s fans and would be very cross later if he wasn’t introduced to her. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Holly said. 

“Mrs. Shannon, it’s an honor to meet you,” John told her. “I’m a huge fan.” 

“Thank you so much,” Holly smiled. She poured them all tea while they sat on the couch, her taking the chair across from it. Sherlock scrutinized her while Lestrade asked a few questions. 

“Mrs. Shannon, do you know of anyone who might have wanted to make it seem like you murdered your husband?” Lestrade asked. 

“No…not that I know of. Do you think I’m being framed?” she asked. 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Lestrade said. 

“So, you believe me when I say I didn’t do it, then?” 

“No, he believed me,” Sherlock interjected. John and Lestrade looked embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry?” she asked, confused.

“I knew you couldn’t have murdered him because you wouldn’t be stupid enough to jeopardize the popularity of your show. You were unhappy in your marriage, maybe even hated your husband, but you couldn’t have killed him, you wouldn’t have, you were researching a divorce.” 

“How do you know all that, if I can ask?” she was curious. 

“Divorce papers, sticking out of the manuscript on the bookshelf, signed by your name but not his. You were hiding them from him until the right moment, knowing he never read your work; he wasn’t supportive of you. He was abusive, judging by the bruises on your wrists. He frequently grabbed you roughly, but didn’t hit you, that would be too obvious to ordinary people. However, he yelled at you, judging by the fact that you’re jumpy and nervous, arms crossing your body defensively, not getting too close to anyone. He also frequently told you you’re worth nothing, made you feel insignificant – you carry your body as if you believe it, shoulders closed, not making eye contact with people. Your husband hadn’t slept with you in months—”

John choked on his tea at this and started coughing, pulling out a handkerchief. Lestrade, who had been taking notes, held his pen in mid-air over the paper. Holly blushed. 

“How did you…?” she started.

“You hold the top of your shirt closed as if you feel sexually unappealing. You’re attracted to Lestrade, but you don’t think you have a chance.” Holly was a very vibrant shade of red at this point and Lestrade’s eyes widened as he realized he’d better diffuse this situation. John had started coughing harder, not because of the tea, but because he was trying to get Sherlock to shut up. When this wasn’t working, he just sipped his tea again quietly. 

“Now, hold on, Sherlock, I think you’re getting carried away,” Lestrade said shooting an apologetic look at Holly. 

“I never get carried away. It’s quite obvious – her legs are crossed, her leading foot pointing at you, her eyes are on you more frequently than anyone else in the room, every time you look at her, she touches her hair—”

“I think that’s all we have for right now,” Lestrade interrupted, thinking he should have known something like this would happen if he brought Sherlock with him. “We’ll let you know if we have any more questions.” 

“Thank you,” Holly said, her face still a bright shade of red. She got up to walk them all to the door, glad that the conversation was over. Well, that was embarrassing.


	6. Jim from IT

Mandy was eating in the hospital cafeteria when she was approached by a man in a v-neck t-shirt and jeans. He had dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a charming smile. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hello,” she said, trying to be polite, but she hated being bothered by strangers.

“I’m Jim. I work in IT,” he introduced himself. 

“Mandy. Medical examiner.” 

“May I join you?” he asked. She shrugged like she didn’t care either way, so he sat across from her. “I hope I’m not bothering you. I think you’re very pretty, and I wanted to come talk to you.” She just looked at him like he was boring her, but didn’t say anything. “You don’t like getting compliments?” he asked. 

“I see no need for the approval of others.” 

“I like that,” he said. She looked like she didn’t care. They ate in silence until Mandy finished and decided to get back to work. “See you around?” he asked. She just shrugged and walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade entered the victim’s home and began looking around. He saw the body on the floor – a blonde woman, early 30s, was lying on the floor. Next to her head was a large string of pearls, and her neck had red marks around her neck. She had been strangled with the pearl necklace. Lestrade was examining the scene when Sherlock and John walked in.

“How did you know about this murder? I didn’t call you,” Lestrade asked. 

“We were walking by and saw the caution tape,” Sherlock said as if this were normal.

“He just had to come in,” John explained. Lestrade looked at Sherlock for a moment as if trying to decide if he should kick them out, but decided against it. 

“Well, while you’re here, what can you tell us about her?” he asked, indicating the victim’s corpse. Sherlock took a few minutes to examine the body, also taking a glance around the room. While he was doing this, John spoke up. 

“This is like that episode of Stratwood.” 

“What?” Lestrade asked, looking up. 

“Episode 2, ‘Choke on Your Words’?” Lestrade looked at him blankly. “A young woman publishes an angry letter to the mayor and is strangled with a strand of pearls.” 

“She was a fan of Stratwood, or rather, anti-fan. Also a journalist,” Sherlock said without looking up. 

“How do you know?” John asked, knowing that Sherlock had caught some evidence that no one else did.

“Poster on the wall of girl detective Margaret Blythe, the protagonist of the series, with darts in it,” he started, the words ‘girl detective’ holding some sarcasm in his voice. “Tape recorder, on the table, for interviews; fingernails clipped short so they won’t get in the way while typing. These are real pearls, given to her by her mother.” 

“Hang on, how do you know they’re from her mother?” John wanted to know.

“There’s a small tag on the clasp, inscribed: ‘to my beautiful daughter – love, Mom.’” 

“Right, well…obvious, then.” 

“Not to mention the newspaper articles clipped and sitting in a pile on the coffee table, all with her name on the byline, Jessica Shale,” Sherlock pointed out. John was by now used to Sherlock’s brilliant skills of deduction, he just nodded and picked up one of the articles on the table to look it over. 

“Sherlock, come look at this,” he said. Sherlock and Lestrade came up behind John and looked over his shoulders at the article. The title read, ‘BBC’s Stratwood: A mockery of the entire mystery genre.’ The three quickly read through the article – it was an unflattering and at times downright mean review of the TV series, blasting everything from the plotlines to the sets to the characters. John read aloud a particularly venomous line. “American head writer Holly Shannon is so obviously living vicariously through protagonist Margaret Blythe; projecting her adolescent fantasies of being a daring gumshoe on her cliché and uninteresting main character.” John and Lestrade exchanged a look. 

“It would seem we’re going to need to pay another unfortunate visit to Holly Shannon,” Lestrade said. He would have preferred not to bring Sherlock, given what happened last time, but now that the consulting detective was involved, it was probably a good idea to have him there in case Lestrade missed something important.


	8. Sherlock's Faith in Holly

Holly opened her door again, wearing denim capris and a vintage-style top. 

“Oh,” she blushed when she saw who was at the door. “Hello, Inspector. Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson,” she greeted, letting them all inside. She offered them some scones she had just made, as well as pouring them all some tea. “I don’t suppose any progress has been made regarding my husband’s death?” she asked hopefully. 

“I’m afraid not,” Lestrade told her. “There’s something else.” 

“What is it?” 

“Mrs. Shannon,” he started, trying to figure out how best to bring this up, “are you familiar with a Jessica Shale who writes for The Observer?” 

“Yes. She has…well, she has written me a few, shall we say, strongly-worded letters. She has made it clear to me that she can’t stand my work.” 

“Have you read this Sunday’s Observer?” 

“No, I haven’t had the chance to look at it yet. I have one on the table,” she said, starting to get up. Lestrade motioned for her to stay where she was. 

“I’ll get it.” He grabbed the untouched newspaper and unfolded it to the correct page, then handed it to Holly. While she read it, John and Lestrade each ate a scone. Sherlock simply sipped his tea in stiff, pensive silence. When she finished reading the article, she nodded and put the paper down. 

“I see. I’m afraid I’m not surprised. Like I said, Miss Shale has written me letters before – would you like to see them? I’ll get them,” she said, glad to be helpful. She disappeared for a moment and then returned with three envelopes and handed them to Lestrade, who had stood up and was leaning on the mantle with his elbow. Sherlock immediately got up to read them over his shoulder, John just looked at them interestedly, waiting until they were done reading the letters so that he could be let in on what was going on. Holly had returned to her chair and was sipping her tea patiently. 

The letters were even more volatile than the review in the paper was. They were filled with angry expletives, name-calling, one even had a death threat. When Lestrade was done reading them, he handed the letters to John for him to read and sat back down across from Holly. Sherlock remained by the mantle, deep in thought. 

“Mrs. Shannon,” Lestrade said, “did these letters bother you?”

“Of course,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Inspector, I love what I do. I love the stories, I love the characters, I love to write. Of course it would bother me when someone doesn’t like Stratwood, but they’re entitled to their opinions. I wish Miss Shale hadn’t felt the need to be quite so hostile about it, but when one is involved in the entertainment industry, one expects a certain amount of negativity from people. It’s upsetting, but I don’t let it get to me. I get much more positive feedback on Stratwood than negative, and the ratings show that people appreciate what I do, and that makes it difficult to dwell too much on the occasional angry letter or bad review.” Lestrade nodded at all of this, then leaned forward and looked into Holly’s eyes in the way that doctors look at people before diagnosing them with cancer. 

“Mrs. Shannon,” he paused, preparing her for bad news. “Jessica Shale has been murdered.” Holly turned a bit white and waited a moment before responding. 

“Oh. That’s…that’s terrible,” she said, looking reverently into her lap. 

“She was strangled with a strand of pearls,” Lestrade said significantly, and she didn’t need to hear the rest of the unspoken sentence to understand that it was a reference to her show. 

“I see. Do you think it was the same person who killed Daniel?” she asked. Lestrade and John glanced at each other, and she didn’t need an interpretation. “Oh. I’m back on the suspect list, then.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lestrade apologized sincerely. “But I’m afraid the evidence is piling up.” 

“Some of the evidence,” Sherlock said all of a sudden. “None of the important things.” Lestrade looked at Sherlock until he elaborated. “Oh, your sad little minds must be so dull. She just told you how attached she is to her show,” he continued to Lestrade, speaking about Holly as if she weren’t right there. “She wouldn’t intentionally draw unflattering media attention to it. A serial murderer would have a story ready for when she’s questioned, deny it, be too calm. She’s nervous – shifting in her chair, touching her neck as if to protect herself. She was surprised to hear about the murder and the pearls; she thought we were here about her husband. She is afraid of being falsely accused, not to mention the fact that she’s expecting company that is supposed to arrive at any moment.” 

“Now how did you know—” Lestrade started before being interrupted by Sherlock again. 

“When we arrived, she opened the door like she was expecting someone, but looked surprised to see it was us. Freshly baked scones, tea set out, traces of flour under her fingernails, the mantle’s been dusted, the room tidied up – easy.” 

“I’m having someone over for tea,” Holly confirmed. “She’s supposed to be here any minute now.” As if on cue, there was a knock at her door. “There she is now,” she said. “Excuse me for a moment,” she added, then got up and went to the door. When she came back, Mandy Harper the medical examiner was with her. 

“Mr. Holmes,” Mandy greeted. 

“Dr. Harper,” Sherlock acknowledged in an equally bored manner. 

“Hello. Remember me?” John asked. He was ignored as Mandy took the tea offered to her and sat down. “Of course not,” he added. He was used to being ignored when Sherlock was around. 

“You know Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson?” Holly asked, confused. 

“We met in the morgue,” Mandy said, taking a sip of her tea. 

“Oh. How…nice,” Holly said, not knowing how else to respond. 

“How do you two know each other?” John asked, trying to make small talk. 

“We knew one another in high school, back in the states. We didn’t talk for a while, and I moved here to London when I got the job at BBC, and one day I ran into her in a pub and she told me she was working as a medical examiner, and so now we see one another from time to time, and I often consult her when writing my murders.” 

“That must be exciting, to help on such a great show,” John said. Holly smiled at him. 

“I don’t watch it,” Mandy said bluntly. 

“I hate to break this up, but I am supposed to be interviewing a murder suspect,” Lestrade pointed out, then blushed a bit when he saw how uncomfortable Holly looked. 

“As Dr. Harper can surely tell you, Mrs. Shannon is not the killer,” Sherlock said, emphasizing the medical examiner’s name acidly. 

“Well, obviously, look at the poor woman,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes at Sherlock. 

“Excuse me…no offense, but why should I believe you?” Lestrade asked. 

“Because I’m right,” Mandy replied. 

“I suppose we should leave these ladies to their tea,” Lestrade finally said, giving up on the situation once again. “I’ll be in touch,” he told Holly. She got up to walk the three men to the door. As John was passing through the doorway, he suddenly turned. 

“I have to ask – will we find out who killed Sawyer in the next series?” he asked shyly, referring to the well-speculated cliffhanger in the last aired episode of Stratwood. Holly smiled at him. 

“Yes…and if you watch the last episode enough times, you might just figure it out ahead of everyone,” she said with a wink, leaving John to nod and smile before she closed the door behind him.


	9. A Change of Plans

Mandy was less-than-enthused to see Jim from IT approach her while she was eating lunch. However, when he asked to sit down, she just shrugged and let him sit down across from her again. 

“How has your day been?” Jim asked her. 

“Average.” 

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he said, a bit flirtatiously. 

“I speak when I have something to say.” 

“I like that.” 

“How nice.” 

“Mandy, I was wondering, do you like coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you like to have some with me after work?” 

“You’re asking me on a date,” Mandy said bluntly. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, thank you.” 

“In that case, would you like to have sex?” At this unexpected question, Mandy’s head snapped up from where it had previously been concentrating on her mediocre mashed potatoes. She furrowed her brow for a moment, confused, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“Why?” 

“Sex relieves stress and tension, activates the pleasure centers of the brain, releases dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin, promotes relaxation, alleviates fear and anxiety, raises self-esteem, and increases growth of nerve cells. The benefits of orgasm have been scientifically supported in countless studies.” Mandy looked thoughtful for a moment. 

“If you work in IT, how do you know so much about the human mind?” 

“Just a…fascination of mine. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes. I will have sex with you. My flat? Tonight?” 

“Works for me.” 

Mandy gave him her address, thinking that it was a bit of an odd situation, but he had made an argument she couldn’t refute and, what the hell, it sounded appealing. It would be interesting to see how things went later that evening.


	10. New Evidence

Holly arrived at New Scotland Yard and was given a visitor pass and directed to DI Lestrade’s office. She found him with his forehead in his hand, looking at a pile of papers. She knocked on the open door with the hand that wasn’t holding anything. When Lestrade looked up, a surprised expression came over his face. 

“Mrs. Shannon?” 

“I hope I haven’t disturbed you…” she said shyly. 

“Not at all, come in. Have a seat. What can I do for you?” Holly thought she might have been crazy, but he almost seemed happy to see her. Didn’t he think she was a murderer? 

“Well, I was looking through a few of Daniel’s old things—” she started, but was interrupted by a snide voice behind her. 

“Come to confess, have you?” Holly turned to see Donovan standing in the doorway, leaning against it with her arms crossed, her black curly hair framing her scowl. 

“I’m afraid I have nothing to confess,” Holly replied.

“Sergeant Donovan, was there something you needed?” Lestrade asked pointedly. Donovan came in and put a file on Lestrade’s desk, gave Holly a haughty look, and left without a word. Holly was about to speak again when Anderson appeared. “What is it, Anderson?” Lestrade said frustratedly, standing up. 

“Nothing. Just came to get a look at the serial killer,” he said snidely. 

“No one’s proven anything. I suggest you get back to work.” At this, Anderson scampered off, giving Holly a smug look. Holly looked down into her lap, blushing. So everyone at New Scotland Yard thought she was a murderer. She tried to blink back her tears, but one slowly escaped down her cheek, and she tried to wipe it away before it was noticed. Lestrade rang for the receptionist. “Could you bring Mrs. Shannon some tea, please? Thank you.” He allowed Holly to collect herself while her tea was brought and she took a sip. 

“Thank you, Inspector. I apologize.” 

“Try not to listen to them. I trust Sherlock’s judgment a lot more than theirs and he insists you’re innocent.” She gave him a bit of a sad smile. “Now, what can I help you with?” 

“Oh, yes. I was going through some of Daniel’s old things, and I found some papers and emails that I thought you might find helpful. Apparently there were a lot of people angry with Daniel – banks, employees, clients…lovers,” she finished painfully, taking another sip of tea. “He was hiding more from me than I knew. He owes the Bank of England £100,000. His employees at the factory hated him, he angered countless clients, and of course, was having affairs the whole time. Anyway, there seem to be a lot of people who might have wanted him dead.” She pushed the papers toward Lestrade for him to look over. There were letters from the Bank of England demanding payment, reports from his employees, angry letters and emails from clients and women he’d had affairs with. It definitely gave Lestrade some more people to speak with. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Shannon. I’ll look into it immediately.” 

“Thank you,” she said, finishing her tea and pausing for a moment. “If you’d like, you can call me Holly. I don’t really like thinking about being ‘Mrs. Shannon’ at the moment.” Lestrade just nodded. She politely let herself out of his office, ignoring the glares of Donovan and Anderson as she left.


	11. Mandy Has Company

Jim arrived at Mandy’s flat right on time, wearing a v-neck t-shirt and jeans. Mandy had on black pants and a simple green shirt – what she had worn to work that day. He took a look around while he took off his coat and put it over the back of a chair. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said. 

“The bedroom’s this way,” Mandy replied. There was no need for small talk – they had arranged this for a purpose, they might as well get into it. Jim followed her into the bedroom and she sat on the bed. He sat next to her and took off his shoes. 

Not a word was said between them the whole time. Jim immediately put his hand on the back of Mandy’s neck and began kissing her lustfully. At first she kissed him back in an experimental way, trying to figure out the best technique. It took a moment, but she managed to turn off her scientific brain. Once she realized that this was supposed to be about pleasure and nothing more, she relaxed into the kiss, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to touch hers. She sighed at the sensation and fell back onto the bed, taking him with her. They took a moment to situate themselves on the bed, her head on a pillow and him leaning over her while they continued kissing hungrily. 

She pulled his t-shirt over his head and his mouth returned to devour hers for a moment, tangling his tongue with hers and grazing his teeth over her bottom lip while he pinned her wrists firmly to the bed. She moaned, having no qualms about vocalizing her pleasure. With this encouragement, Jim pulled her shirt off and began kissing down her neck. When he got to her collarbone, he licked a line up to her ear and bit down on the earlobe, getting another moan. He worked his way back down, his hands releasing her wrists, his mouth kissing, licking, and sucking on her cleavage while she worked on undoing his jeans. She got them off and he immediately removed her black trousers, tossing them away. His mouth returned to hers for a few moments as he removed her bra and replaced it with his hands. She broke the kiss to put her mouth on his neck, biting hard. This time he was the one to moan. He gave her a devilish grin and grinded his hips against hers, and soon they had removed the rest of the clothing. 

When they were finished, they dressed and Mandy walked Jim from IT to the door, both thanking the other for the experience, glad that they had done it and that there was no need to make it more than it was.


	12. Hands

Mandy was examining the body of Jessica Shale while Molly was on her lunch break. To Mandy’s annoyance, Sherlock walked in. 

“Mr. Holmes,” she acknowledged. “Come to have a peek at Miss Shale?” 

“No, I’ve already had one, thank you,” he replied, a bit snidely. 

“Good for you. Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Yes. I need six hands.” 

“Hands?” 

“Yes. It doesn’t matter whose they are, any hands will do.” 

“No,” Mandy said after looking at him oddly for a good few seconds. 

“Molly always lets me have some.” Mandy looked down at the name tag pinned to her shirt and then gave Sherlock a patronizing look. 

“It says ‘Mandy Harper’, not ‘Molly Hooper’ here on my name tag. But I can see how you would get confused, what with us having the same initials. Names are hard.” Sherlock glared at her.   
She returned to her examination and spoke again without looking up at him. “What do you want them for?” 

“I want to use them for an experiment.” 

“What kind of an experiment?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Mandy paused for a moment before responding. 

“Let me help you with the experiment.” Sherlock looked surprised for a moment. 

“No, I don’t need any help, thank you.” 

“Then you don’t get any hands,” Mandy responded. Sherlock hesitated for a couple of minutes, standing awkwardly in the morgue while he was ignored. Finally, he gave in. 

“Alright, you may help. Bring the hands with you tomorrow night at 7:00. We will meet at my flat; the address is 221B Baker Street.” As he said the last sentence Molly appeared again and looked at Mandy a bit hurt. Sherlock left and Molly started preparing to do an autopsy on Jessica Shale. 

“So. You’re going to Sherlock’s flat?” 

“It’s not anything romantic, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Mandy said. “He is allowing me to help with a scientific experiment.” 

“Oh, right. Of course,” Molly said. “You two seem to have a lot in common.” 

“I suppose that could be argued.” 

“I think if Sherlock ever did have a romance with someone, it would be someone like you,” she said. Mandy looked at her a bit confusedly, but Molly just replied with a smile and continued working.


	13. Chapter 13

Holly got to work earlier than usual – she wanted to work on some writing for the next series before there were too many people bustling around. She noticed that the light was on under the door to the dressing room of one of the actors on her show. Michael Culver played a young policeman who doubled as the main character’s love interest. He must have gotten to work early too. Well, she might as well take this opportunity to apologize for their last interaction – they’d had a bit of a fight because he didn’t like the story she wrote for his character in a particular episode. She’d been a bit stern with him, refusing to change it, but she respected him and wanted to keep a good relationship with her actors, so she thought that she’d best apologize while they were both there, especially since she thought of him as a close friend. She knocked on his door. 

“Michael?” No answer. Another knock. “Michael, are you in there? It’s Holly, I’d like to talk to you.” No answer. She opened the door – maybe he just hadn’t heard her. What she found was Michael lying on the floor with a trickle of blood from his forehead and a small but heavy statuette next to his head on the floor. He looked pale. “Michael! Michael? Wake up,” she said, running to him and taking his hand. “Wake up, Michael! Please wake up.” Tears started to well up in her eyes when she realized that he wasn’t waking up. Panicking, she started shaking him. “Please wake up. Please wake up. Michael, wake up!” Giving up, she collapsed onto his chest, her body heaving with huge sobs. 

She didn’t know who had called the police – someone must have walked by and seen her crying over Michael’s body. However, out of nowhere, she found someone trying to lift her off of Michael’s body. 

“No! I need to stay with him, he might wake up!” she sobbed, her arms reaching frantically for him. 

“Ma’am, we need you to get away from the body,” a policeman said. 

“He needs me, I need to tell him, he’s not dead. He’s not dead, he’s not dead!” she collapsed onto the chest of the nearest human being, which fortunately happened to be DI Lestrade, who tentatively rubbed her back with his hand. 

“Come on, we’ll find you somewhere to rest,” he said kindly. He motioned to someone to bring a blanket, and he wrapped it around her shoulders and gently rubbed her back again. While he was trying to figure out what to do with her, John and Sherlock entered. He had texted them as soon as he got the call that the case had something to do with Holly. “John!” he called. John walked over to them. “I’ve got to oversee the investigation of the crime scene. She’s distraught. Would you mind taking her somewhere? I don’t think she should be near the victim right now.” 

“Of course,” John agreed. “Come on, Holly, we’ll get you some rest,” John said kindly, and Lestrade managed to pry her off of his chest and transfer her to John’s chest. John put a hand on her back and led her out of the room while she was still sobbing. He managed to find her office – it said ‘Holly Shannon’ on the door – and brought her inside. She had a couch against one wall that he swiftly brought her to. He sat down next to her and was rubbing her back gently when she threw her arms around his neck to start crying into his shoulder. He put one hand on her back, the other stroking her hair gently. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything will be okay.” 

This continued for several minutes, the hair-stroking calming her down somewhat. John finally got her to stop crying, and her breathing evened out, leaving the occasional sniffle. Finally, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at his face. 

“Feeling a bit better?” he asked gently. “Would you like anything? Tea?” Holly looked at him for a moment, but ended up responding by pressing her lips to John’s. He kissed her back instinctively, his hands threading into her hair while hers slid down from around his neck to rest on his chest. This kissing continued for several minutes, neither one stopping it, until the door to her office flew open and they broke apart. 

“John I need to use your…phone,” Sherlock said, taking in their appearance. John had red lipstick transferred onto his mouth and Holly’s hair was a mess. Ignoring the obvious implication of their appearances, Sherlock walked over to the couch and held out his hand. John sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket to hand it to Sherlock. The consulting detective began typing on it, walking out of the room as he did. John and Holly sat awkwardly while she smoothed her hair. 

“I suppose I’d better…see if they need me in there,” John said. 

“Yes, of course. I’m feeling much better now, thank you,” was the awkward reply. 

“Right, well…I’ll be right in there, if you need anything.” 

“Thank you.” With that, John left, neither he nor Holly saying a word about the kiss.


	14. Mrs. Hudson Misunderstands

Mandy arrived at 221B Baker Street precisely at 7:00. The door was open, so she just went inside with her bag of hands. They stored them in the fridge while Sherlock made tea – he could be a good host if he wanted to be. John sat in the green chair reading a newspaper. Mandy looked around the room, picking up a few things and looking at them. 

“I like your skull,” she said to Sherlock, picking it up off the mantle. 

“Sherlock, dear, I picked up a few things from the shop,” the landlady, Mrs. Hudson entered with a bag full of groceries. When she saw Mandy, she stopped. “Oh, hello,” she said, a bit surprised to find a woman standing in the boys’ flat. John stood up to take the bag from Mrs. Hudson and bring it to the kitchen. Assuming that Mandy must be one of John’s girlfriends, she walked forward. “I know John has spoken about you, but silly me, I’ve gone and forgotten your name. Remind me, dear?” Mrs. Hudson knew that John sometimes had a hard time keeping a girlfriend for very long because the nature of his work with Sherlock, so she didn’t want to use any name in case she said the wrong one and messed things up for John. 

“Mandy.” 

“Of course, I remember now, he talks about you all the time. Quite fond of you,” she said kindly, taking Mandy’s hand in both of her own. 

“Mrs. Hudson, she’s with me,” Sherlock said, coming out of the kitchen with the tea set. 

“Oh! Oh, Sherlock, she’s lovely,” Mrs. Hudson said, her eyes glowing with pride. She thought Sherlock had found himself a girlfriend. John came back in and returned to his chair and his paper.

“She’s here to help me with an experiment,” he said bluntly. 

“Oh…Sherlock, what is it this time?” 

“Hands.” 

“I see…do be careful, dear,” she said, walking out of the flat to return to her own. Sherlock directed his attention to Mandy. 

“Tea?” She accepted and he poured them each some. 

“What sort of an experiment shall we do? I have some ideas, but they’re probably too difficult for you,” Mandy asked while she and Sherlock each took a sip of their tea, looking exactly the same. 

“Don’t speak, it’s annoying,” Sherlock said. “You’re lucky I’m letting you help at all, I should have just waited to get the hands from Molly.” 

“Nope. It’s too weird. I’m going out, if anyone cares,” John said, folding up his paper and leaving the flat.


	15. Clearing Things Up

John didn’t know where else to go while Sherlock and his ‘friend’ or whatever she was bickered about hands, so he decided to pay Holly a visit. They needed to discuss what had happened in her office earlier that day anyway. 

He felt a bit odd knocking on her door uninvited at 7:30 in the evening, and hoped he hadn’t interrupted her dinner or any other plans she might have had. When Holly answered the door, she was already in pajamas and had put a dressing gown on over them. She looked quite tired after the trauma from that morning, but also looked very surprised to see him.” 

“Hello, come in,” she said. “Would you like some tea? I can make some.” 

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” John said. “I hope it’s not a bad time.” 

“Not at all, although I’m sorry I’m a bit under-dressed for company. What brings you here?” she asked. 

“Sherlock has Dr. Harper over, and they’re doing experiments on hands. I was in the way.” 

“I completely understand. Dealing with those two at once can be a bit of a handful.” John and Holly smiled at this. They sat awkwardly for a moment before Holly brought up the elephant in the room first. 

“Listen…about what happened…earlier today, in my office…I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s alright. You were upset,” John said kindly. 

“I mean, it’s not that it was unpleasant…”

“Not at all. Quite nice, actually…” 

“You’re a wonderful person and I’m glad to have you as a friend…” 

“There just wasn’t any spark, was there?” 

“No, not at all,” Holly replied, relieved. 

“And Lestrade is my friend, and I rather think he fancies you—”

“What?” Holly was suddenly very interested. 

“What? Oh, nothing. This is a relief, I’m glad we agree.” 

“Yes, I am too. I was worried.” 

“I was too. I’m glad you stopped by. Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything? Tea, water, biscuits?” 

“Actually, tea would be nice,” John admitted. He wasn’t ready to go back to the flat to deal with Sherlock and Mandy yet. 

“I’ll go make some,” Holly smiled. The two drank tea and chatted until John thought it would be safe to return to 221B, letting Holly sleep after her stressful day with the relief that the kiss had been a nice but one-time occurrence.


	16. Anderson and Donovan Are Unprofessional

Holly went to New Scotland Yard the next day because she needed to answer some questions for Lestrade – she had been too distraught to do it the previous day. Lestrade smiled when she entered wearing a pink top, blue pencil skirt, and burgundy cardigan. Donovan and Anderson were in the room, glaring at her as she entered. 

“Hello, Holly. Please take a seat.” She sat down across from Lestrade. “Now, could you tell me what happened yesterday morning?” 

“I went to work early to work on some writing for Stratwood before everyone else could get there. I like to write early in the morning when I can, there are less interruptions.” Lestrade nodded in understanding and gestured for her to continue. “I noticed that the light was on in Michael’s dressing room, so I thought…” she trailed off, tearing up a bit at the memory. 

“You thought you’d go ahead and bludgeon him while you were there?” Donovan asked. 

“Donovan,” Lestrade warned, giving her a rather cross look. “Please continue, Holly.” 

“I thought Michael must have gotten there early, and I wanted to apologize to him for a fight we’d had last week. I knocked on his door a few times, and when he didn’t answer, I walked in and found him like that.” 

“You’d been in a fight?” Lestrade asked for clarification. 

“Yes, I’m afraid. He didn’t like the plot I’d written for his character and demanded that I change it. I told him no, and we argued for a bit before he stormed out. We hadn’t spoken to each other since. I…I wish I had apologized earlier. Told him how much I appreciate him,” Holly said, tearing up. Lestrade offered her a handkerchief which she used to dab at her tears. Donovan rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Anderson. Holly composed herself and the interview continued. 

“Were you two close?” 

“Yes. I met him before we started working on Stratwood together, so I was excited when he was cast for the role of Sergeant Steve Lattimer. We usually didn’t disagree, but there was one episode I was planning to air in the next series that he didn’t like. He said it made his character seem immature.” 

“Was there an episode of Stratwood in which someone is bludgeoned with a statue?” 

“Yes. Two co-workers get into an argument and one of them is killed by being hit on the head with a small statue,” Holly said sadly. 

“Well, there you are, then,” Anderson said. 

“You’re wasting everyone’s time,” Donovan added. “It’s obvious she did it.” 

“Holly, would you excuse us for a moment?” Lestrade asked her kindly, putting a hand over hers. 

“Of course,” she said, looking into her lap. Lestrade left the office and Donovan and Anderson followed him out. 

“That’s not how we conduct interviews here,” Lestrade said firmly. “I don’t care how likely it looks that a certain person did it, that’s not the way to speak to people.” 

“You’re only saying that because you’re attracted to her,” Donovan said. 

“Now hang on, I don’t know where you’re getting that idea, but I’m doing what I think is best as a professional.” 

“And I suppose making googly eyes at a killer is what’s best as a professional?” Anderson whined. Lestrade was fed up with these two. So he liked the woman. So what? He wasn’t letting it get in the way of his job. Besides, Sherlock didn’t have any attraction to Holly and he believed her innocent, and he was smarter than everyone else, especially Donovan and Anderson. Well, everybody was smarter than them. 

“I don’t like what you’re trying to imply. Now I’m going to go finish interviewing the witness, and you two won’t be needed. Get back to work,” he said, then returned to his office to finish talking to Holly.


	17. Mycroft and His Friend

Mandy and Sherlock were working on their experiment in 221B. John was out on a date, so they had the place to themselves unless they got an unexpected visitor. They were bickering about fingernails when they did get a visitor. He was tall, thin, with dark hair and an expensive suit on. He was holding a long black umbrella. 

“Mycroft,” Sherlock said scornfully. 

“Hello, Sherlock. I was in the neighborhood and just thought I’d stop by.” 

“No you weren’t. What do you want?” 

“There is a matter of national importance I want you to take on. I couldn’t possibly, I haven’t got the time,” Mycroft said. Suddenly, he noticed Mandy standing there. “What’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve managed to get a woman to put up with you.” 

“As you can see, he has,” Mandy said. 

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it? You’ve managed to find a woman who’s just like you. I don’t suppose you’ve – no, of course you haven’t, that would be ridiculous.” Mycroft said smugly chuckling a bit. 

“Have you come here for a reason?” Sherlock asked impatiently. 

“I see. You’re upset that I’ve interrupted your alone time with your…well, whatever she is.” 

“You think I’m his girlfriend,” Mandy said bluntly. “And you, what, came by to have a double-date with your umbrella?” 

“She’s funny, Sherlock. You should hang on to this one,” Mycroft retorted.

“You should hang on to yours, too. You’ll never find another one so thin and insipid again,” Mandy responded, gesturing again to the umbrella. The corners of Sherlock’s mouth curled up into a smirk. He loved that Mandy was expertly insulting his annoying brother. Mycroft gave up on exchanging barbs. 

“Are you going to take on the case or not?” Mycroft asked Sherlock, annoyed. 

“No. I’m busy. Good day.” 

“Very well. Tell John I’ll see him soon,” he said, exiting the flat. Sherlock gave Mandy a look of pride before they returned to bickering about fingernails.


	18. Lestrade is Replaced

Lestrade looked at the Chief Superintendent in disbelief. 

“You’re taking me off the Stratwood case?” 

“It has been brought to my attention that you’re involved in a conflict of interests regarding this case. We’re giving it to Dimmock.” 

“Dimmock? He doesn’t know anything about it!” 

“We’ll give him all the information he needs. You’re too personally interested in the lead suspect, and we need someone on this case who’s going to be objective.” 

Giving up, Lestrade handed over the files for the case. He had to make sure Sherlock was at least still working on it – with Dimmock involved it was unlikely that Holly’s name would be cleared, and he couldn’t have her getting arrested for something she didn’t do. He texted Sherlock immediately, making a mental note to give Anderson and Donovan a piece of his mind the next time he saw them.


	19. Chapter 19

Holly opened her door to find a man in a suit with neatly-combed brown hair and a rather sour look on his face. He held up his ID. 

“Detective Inspector Dimmock. I have a few questions to ask you about a murder that was discovered this morning.” 

“Has there been another one based on Stratwood?” Holly asked, very concerned. She hoped whoever was doing this was caught soon. “Is Detective Inspector Lestrade with you?” she asked, confused, looking past Dimmock to see if he was alone. 

“Lestrade’s been pulled from the case. I’m in charge now,” he said, pushing past her into her flat. He pulled out some paper and a pen and sat down to ask her some questions. 

“Pulled from the case?” Holly was confused – why would Lestrade be kicked off of this case? “What happened?”

“Mrs. Shannon, last night a man was found dead. Name of Peter Halloway. Do you know him?” 

“Yes. He is…was…an extra on Stratwood.” 

“I see,” Dimmock said meaningfully, scribbling this down. “He was found in the garage of his home, killed by exhaust fumes from a running motor vehicle.” 

“Could it have been a suicide?” Holly asked, although she knew it probably wasn’t, based on the pattern of the murders being on her show. The next episode in the line-up was one in which an employee argued with his boss and was killed in his own garage by exhaust fumes. 

“Doesn’t look like it. He was tied up, there were signs of a struggle.” 

“I see.” 

“My sources say you and Halloway didn’t see eye-to-eye?” 

“He auditioned for a larger role but didn’t get it – he was cast as an extra who runs a newspaper stand – and he wasn’t happy about it. He came to my office shouting at me, even though I’m not entirely in charge of casting. I just gave my input. He wasn’t the best actor for the role he was auditioning for, but he wouldn’t believe it.” 

“Mrs. Shannon, where were you last night at around 9:00?” 

“I was here at home.” 

“Is there anyone who can confirm that?” 

“I’m not sure. You might ask the neighbors if they saw or heard me. I didn’t have anyone over last night.” 

Dimmock gave her a rather judgmental look and scribbled some things down. 

“I think I have everything I need for now. I’ll be in touch,” he said, letting himself out before Holly could walk him to the door. She wished Lestrade was still on the case. At least he seemed to believe that she wasn’t the murderer, unlike everyone else at New Scotland Yard.


	20. The Truth About Jim from IT

Sherlock was in the lab at St. Bart’s looking at the latest victim’s possessions under a microscope. Mandy and John were in the room with him. Molly was in the morgue doing an autopsy on the body of Peter Halloway. 

“The murders are in order of the Stratwood episodes by air date, correct?” Sherlock asked John as he adjusted the focus of the microscope. 

“So far they have been, yeah.” 

“What is the next in the series?” 

“Uh…let’s see here…I believe it’s ‘Payback.’ A woman steals some money and is pushed onto the train tracks.” 

“I see,” Sherlock said, lifting his head from the microscope for a moment to place his hands palm-to-palm in front of his lips. 

“We have to figure out who might have stolen some money from Holly,” Mandy said thoughtfully. 

“You were not invited to work on this case,” Sherlock said impatiently. 

“Sherlock, be nice. She’s trying to help,” John said.

“Then she should actually help, not state the obvious.” 

“She is right here, and she has a name, not to mention that she’s smarter than both of you,” Mandy snapped. 

“Hardly,” Sherlock scoffed. 

“Children, can we calm down please?” John finally stepped in. Mandy and Sherlock both stared at him like they didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Not that anyone cares what I think, but if Mandy can help, I say we let her before more people die. Especially now that Lestrade’s not on the case anymore.” 

“Lestrade’s not officially on the case,” Sherlock clarified. Lestrade was still going to work on it during his own time. John was about to reply when Mandy’s phone went off. 

“Oh, it’s Jim from IT,” Mandy said. “We slept together one time and now he won’t leave me alone. Talk about clingy,” she said frustratedly. 

“I’m sorry? Did you say Jim from IT?” John demanded. “You slept with Jim from IT?!” 

“John, don’t judge me. He asked me to have sex with him and I said yes. He made a scientifically sound argument in favor of it.” 

“Scientifically sound argument?” 

“Yes, John, there are many health benefits. Don’t pretend you know nothing about it,” Sherlock said. “Jim from IT, as you know him,” he continued to Mandy, “is a psychopath. He’s murdered hundreds of people. He calls himself a consulting criminal.” 

“Well, that makes sense,” Mandy shrugged. 

“I also thought he might be a bit gay,” John said confusedly. 

“That would make sense too,” Mandy agreed. John gave her an odd look. 

“Sherlock, do you think Moriarty might have something to do with this?” John finally asked. Sherlock didn’t answer, he was just thinking with his hands in front of his mouth again. Suddenly, he got up and grabbed his scarf, wrapping it around his neck. 

“Let’s go, John.” 

“Where are we going?” Sherlock didn’t answer, so John just gave an exasperated sigh and left Mandy alone in the lab.


	21. Lestrade is Honest

Holly went to the shop to buy some groceries. She was grabbing a few vegetables and was examining the lettuce when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a rather plump woman smiling at her. 

“Excuse me, but are you Holly Shannon, head writer for Stratwood?” 

“Yes, I am,” Holly smiled. 

“Oh! I just love your show! I also loved you in that interview with Graham Norton. I hope I’m not bothering you, but could I have your autograph?” she giggled, holding out a small notebook and a pen. 

“Of course. What’s your name?” 

“Meredith,” the woman said giddily. Holly scribbled, ‘To Meredith – thank you for your kind words. They mean more to me than you know. Stay lovely. – Holly Shannon.’ 

“There you are. Thank you so much for watching my show. It means the world to me.” 

“Oh, you’re so sweet! Thank you!” Meredith beamed, then turned to continue her shopping happily. Holly turned to look at the lettuce again and jumped when she found herself a couple inches away from a man’s chest. 

“I’m so sorry, I—Detective Inspector Lestrade?” she looked over him – he was wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt. 

“You’ve got quite the admirer there,” he pointed out, referring to Meredith. 

“Oh, yeah. She’s the reason I do the show, you know.” 

“You were very nice to her.” 

“Of course. She means a lot to me by appreciating what I do.” Lestrade smiled at this. How could anyone accuse this woman of murder. “So…you aren’t working on my case anymore,” Holly said sadly. He’d probably asked to be let out of it – she wouldn’t blame him. 

“I was kicked out,” he said rather bitterly. 

“Oh. I thought you were doing a great job,” she replied with a kind smile. 

“I was. That’s not why the case was reassigned.” 

“Oh. May I ask why, then?” Holly asked. “I don’t mean to pry, I just…to be honest, I liked it better when you were the one working on it. Detective Inspector Dimmock is a bit…well, I’d rather it was you,” she said shyly. Lestrade paused for a moment, pretending to look at the lettuce, while he decided how to answer. Finally, he determined that honesty would probably be the easiest. Besides, Sherlock had said before that Holly was interested in him, and Sherlock was the most perceptive person he knew.

“They took me off the case because they thought there was a conflict of interests.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Donovan and Anderson thought my attraction to you was getting in the way of me solving this case,” he told her candidly. 

“Your…I’m sorry?” Did he say attraction? 

“Holly, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but…I want to spend time with you.” 

“You mean…not professionally?” she asked timidly. 

“Yes. I still want to work on the case unofficially. I’d like to get this cleared up as soon as possible.” 

“Oh,” Holly misunderstood. “You want to work with me on the case in your spare time.” 

“Well, yes. Holly, I also want to date you in my spare time. If you’d like to. I hope it’s not too soon to ask, I know you’re still recovering from your husband’s death—”

“I…you’re asking me out?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’d like that,” she smiled shyly. 

“Really? I have to be honest, I was expecting you to tell me to bugger off,” he admitted. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight?”

“No, I’m not,” she said sadly, and Lestrade looked disappointed. “I have a date with a Detective Inspector,” she added, her eyes teasing him. “Does 7:00 work?” 

“Perfect,” he smiled. They gave each other a flirtatious look before Holly quickly grabbed her lettuce and made her way to the registers.


	22. A Date

Lestrade arrived at Holly’s flat at 7:00 wearing a striped button-up shirt, a blazer, and nice pants. He knocked on the door and was stunned at the sight of her in a vintage red dress with a sweetheart neckline and a crocheted overlay. She smiled at him and he led her into a cab. They arrived at a nice Chinese restaurant and chatted while they ate their food. She told him how she ended up in London and what she liked most about writing, and he talked about some of his more strange cases. While he was mentioning a particularly bizarre one, she couldn’t help but laugh. Lestrade stopped mid-sentence and smiled. 

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.” 

“Oh,” she blushed. “I haven’t had much reason to in a while. I guess I’m still working on remembering how to be myself again.” 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like you couldn’t be,” Lestrade said genuinely. She just smiled. 

“Have you ever been married?” she asked, then blushed again. “Sorry, I hope that’s not a rude question.” 

“Not at all. I’m divorced. Found out my wife was sleeping with a PE teacher.” 

“Oh. I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth, I think she must have been crazy.” He gave her another smile. 

“I’m having a hard time imagining what your husband must have been like. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt you or paying attention to another woman when he has one like you.” 

“Thank you,” Holly smiled and blushed. 

“Well, since you’re being yourself, I want to know all about you,” he encouraged. She tried to think of things Daniel would have hated. 

“I love vintage fashion, I like reading and writing. I love murder mysteries and science fiction. I like baking and holding hands and storytelling. And I just decided right here and now that I’m going to adopt a cat tomorrow.” 

“Are you? That’s wonderful,” Lestrade said. “I think all of it is wonderful.” 

“Really?” Holly asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes and smiling. Lestrade looked at her for a moment, at how shy and insecure she looked. 

“Would you like to know what I can tell you about you?” She nodded. “I think you’re beautiful, intelligent, funny, and talented. I would be happy to eat your baking and hold hands with you, and I think your future cat is going to be very lucky.” At all of this, Holly blushed furiously and even started tearing up just a bit while she was smiling – no one, especially a man, had said such sweet things to her in her entire life. 

“I think you’re amazing too, Greg,” Holly said, using his first name for the first time. They finished their dinner and walked back to her flat. Halfway there, he reached over to take her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. She smiled up at him. While they walked they talked about Greg’s likes and dislikes, and he told her about his secret hobby of photoshopping funny pictures of Sherlock. Finally, they reached her door and he let go of her hand to face her. 

“I had a great time tonight,” she said. 

“I did too. Can I call you tomorrow?” 

“I’d like that.” With this encouragement, Lestrade put his hands on her upper arms, preparing to kiss her. As soon as he touched her arms, she gasped and took a step back. He gave her a questioning look. “I’m sorry. I…he used to hurt my arms…” she looked down at her shoes. He placed his fingers under her chin to lift her eyes to look at his. 

“Holly, I would never hurt you. I promise never to touch you in any way that makes you uncomfortable,” he said. He gave her a kiss on the forehead as she smiled, then took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“Goodnight,” she said. 

“Goodnight.” 

She unlocked her door and went inside, leaning against the door and smiling as soon as it was closed.


	23. Chapter 23

Holly wanted this murderer to be caught as soon as possible. She did not want any more people dying. Furthermore, she wanted it proven that she wasn’t the killer. Judging by the order of aired episodes of Stratwood, she realized the next victim would be someone who was stealing money – and she had noticed a suspicious amount of money missing from the show’s funds. However, in order to figure out who that was, she would need some help. After making a few phone calls, she started baking frantically. It helped her think. A couple hours later, her guests began to arrive. The first was Mandy. 

“I made fairy cakes!” Holly said, holding out a plate, her apron still on. Mandy took one and started munching on it. A moment later, Greg arrived, Sherlock showing up just as she was letting him in. Greg happily accepted one of the small cakes, but Sherlock just took some tea. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Holly smiled at them all, then directed her attention primarily to Mandy and Sherlock. “I need your help. As I’m sure you’ve both figured out, the next victim of this psycho, if based on the airdates of Stratwood episodes, will be someone who is stealing money. I’ve noticed recently that a substantial amount of Stratwood’s funding has mysteriously gone missing. I’m convinced that it’s someone who works on the show. I was hoping you two could help me figure out who it is so that we can get the money back, and save their life of course.” 

“I assume you have a plan?” Mandy asked. 

“I was hoping you two would possibly investigate undercover as actors on the set. I’m asking the two of you because you’re the most observant people I know.” 

“What about me?” Lestrade asked. Holly blushed and smiled at him. 

“I just wanted to see you.” He beamed while Mandy and Sherlock exchanged a look. 

“This plan would involve us working together?” Mandy asked, gesturing to Sherlock.

“Yes…” Holly confirmed. “I was thinking of saying you two are extras on the show. I’ll even write parts for you, we’ll rehearse, everything. While you’re on the set, perhaps you two could see if you notice anything off, overhear someone say something – anything that might give us a clue as to the next victim.” 

“We’ll do it,” Sherlock said, speaking for the first time. 

“Were you planning on consulting me before signing me up for things?” 

“Clearly not,” Sherlock said snarkily. 

“Well, I’ll do it. For you, Holly, of course.” 

“Great! Can you both be at the studio at 8:00 tomorrow morning?” They both nodded, got the information, and said they had to go. Holly walked them to the door before returning to Lestrade. 

“Do you think those two can work together without killing each other?” he asked as she sat next to him on the couch. 

“I have no idea. I think they’d actually make a good couple…unusual, but good…if they stopped fighting for two seconds,” she sighed. “I just hope they can figure out who it is before someone else gets hurt.” As she said this, she took Greg’s hand from where it was resting on his knee and laced her fingers through his. He glanced down at their hands and smiled for a moment before looking up at her. 

“I’m glad you wanted to see me again. I thought I’d scared you off last night.” 

“Oh! No. You didn’t scare me, I just…had a bad memory is all…I’m sorry about that.” He smiled and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Oh! I have someone for you to meet!”   
Holly jumped up and disappeared into her bedroom, and came out with a small black ball of fur in her cupped hands. When she came closer, Lestrade could see that it was a kitten with big blue eyes. He looked up at Lestrade and tilted his head curiously. 

“Mew!” it squeaked. Lestrade’s heart melted. 

“What’s his name?” he asked in awe, stroking the tiny kitten on the head with his finger. 

“I don’t know yet. He kind of looks like Sherlock, doesn’t he?” she laughed. The cat looked up at her when she said the name Sherlock. “I think he just decided that’s his name. Sherlock II.” The small cat gave her a look as if to say, ‘excuse me, I’m not the second anything.’ 

“I see the resemblance,” Lestrade said. They played with Sherlock II for a bit. 

“I needed you, Sherlock II,” Holly said to her new cat. “I have been very stressed out lately.” 

“Why don’t I cook dinner for you tomorrow night?” Lestrade said. “I’ll bring everything here, you don’t need to do a thing.” 

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” 

“Not at all.” 

“That would be wonderful,” Holly smiled. Lestrade said he had to get back to the office. She packaged him up some fairy cakes for him to take to the office in case he felt like a snack, and he gave her another kiss on the hand before leaving. After he was gone, Holly began to work on a script for Sherlock and Mandy.


	24. Cut...cut...CUT

Sherlock and Mandy arrived the next morning on the set. Holly had gathered all the actors together and started handing out their scripts for rehearsal. She had Sherlock and Mandy ‘cast’ as extras in the episode: a married couple whose neighbor in their new flat is murdered. 

“Sherlock, Mandy, you’re to play James and Allison Porter.” Sherlock and Mandy began glancing over the scripts, as did the rest of the cast. 

“It says here that James and Allison kiss,” Sherlock observed. 

“Yes,” Holly confirmed.

“Why?” 

“Because that’s what married couples do…is there a problem?” 

“They’re suspected of murdering their neighbor – kissing seems like a waste of time.” 

“Well, James and Allison Porter don’t think that affection is a waste of time.” 

“I see,” Sherlock said, returning to the script. They did a quick cold read-through, and then everyone was given a couple of hours to look over their scripts in more detail. A few hours later, they were gathered again for a more substantial read-through rehearsal. They all stood in the sets with their scripts to practice. Some of the more experienced actors had already memorized some of their lines in the few hours they were given. 

“Sherlock, Mandy, you’re up.” The two stepped onto the set and sat on the couch that was set up. They didn’t need their scripts because they each only had one line in this scene. The stage direction said that their characters were snuggling on the couch, so Sherlock put his arm around Mandy and she rested her head on his chest. 

“Action,” the director said. Mandy’s line was first. She and Sherlock actually seemed to be pretty good at acting. 

“James, what are we going to do?” Mandy asked in character, looking up at Sherlock with tears in her eyes. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Allison. I promise,” Sherlock said back, his face full of concern and affection just like James Porter’s was supposed to be. He wrapped his arms around Mandy and lowered his mouth to hers. She began moving her lips over his and soon he responded, kissing her back adroitly. This continued for a few moments. 

“Cut!” the director said. However, Sherlock and Mandy didn’t stop kissing. It was as if a floodgate had been opened. Sherlock moved a hand to the back of Mandy’s neck and kissed her more deeply. “I said cut,” the director tried, but Sherlock just kept kissing. Holly was very amused by this turn of events.

“Sherlock? You can stop now…” Holly tried, and finally Mandy pushed him away. 

“Didn’t you hear them yell ‘cut’?” Mandy asked, rolling her eyes at Sherlock, although she had been just as guilty of continuing the kiss as he was. Sherlock didn’t reply, just looked at Mandy rather pensively. 

“Okay, let’s try that again…this time, stop when he says cut,” Holly instructed, and they all reset to try it again. They rehearsed it several times, and it took a few tries before they could get Sherlock and Mandy to stop kissing when the director called ‘cut.’ For two people who seemed to think sentiment was a weakness, once they were kissing it was like they got addicted to it and couldn’t stop. Holly just smiled to herself.


	25. Sherlock II Interrupts

Lestrade showed up at Holly’s flat with a bag full of groceries and some wine to go with the Cornish game hens he was going to make. He got everything going and poured them some wine while Holly got the table ready. Then, they sat on the couch with their wine while the hens and potatoes roasted. Sherlock II snuggled up between them on the couch and Holly pulled out a box of photos for them to look at, telling him about her family and growing up, her extracurricular activities in school, and her college adventures, telling him stories for every photo. He grabbed another stack of pictures and started flipping through them, then realized they were her wedding photos with Daniel. She looked so beautiful in her white gown, and so happy. There were also some pictures of them during their marriage, and she looked so frightened and sad. Seeing that she looked uncomfortable, he quickly put the pictures back in the bottom of the box. She returned the other photos to the box and closed it, setting it aside. He took her hand and she smiled at him. 

“I’m sorry if I’m still a bit edgy about a few things.”

“I completely understand. I feel lucky that you’re even giving me a chance, after the way he treated you.”

“It is difficult to remember how to trust people. But I can’t compare everyone to Daniel. I had good relationships before him, and I have to remember that not everyone is like him, although it’s strange how an experience with one person can affect you so much. When he first started being like that, I remember thinking, ‘what did I do wrong?’ I blamed myself. I didn’t know he was cheating on me, but I thought that if he did it would be my fault for not being…enough. I have good friends who pulled me out of that mentality, but it’s amazing how much it sinks in so quickly. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk about this.”

“No, I think it’s important for you to talk about. Thank you for trusting me.” At this point, the dinner was ready and they ate while Greg opened up to her about his wife cheating on him and their divorce. Sure, ex-spouses might be an odd thing to talk about on the first two dates, but they both felt like it was something they should be open about with each other since it was such a huge part of their pasts. When they were finished Greg insisted on rinsing the dishes, then poured another glass of wine and returned to the couch. 

“Greg, I’m sorry to burden you with all of this. I know it’s a lot to handle.” He just looked at her curiously. Suddenly, she giggled. The sound woke up Sherlock II, who had been asleep on the couch this whole time, and he jumped down and stalked away sulkily.

“What is it?” he asked, smiling. 

“It’s just…when I first met Sherlock, and he pointed out that I’m attracted to you, and I was so embarrassed, I thought I could just die. I never would have imagined that you’d be here with me now.” 

“He said you didn’t think you had a chance,” Greg remembered, “and I remember thinking, ‘her? Not have a chance? She could have anyone, why would she be interested in me?’” 

“You thought that?” Holly was amazed. 

“Holly…would you mind if I kissed you?” Holly smiled and leaned a bit closer to him, glancing at his mouth. He picked up her unspoken answer and cupped her face with his hand, gently pressing his lips to hers. She kissed him back hesitantly and he slid his thumb down her cheek. He broke the kiss after a moment to see her eyes open slowly. 

“Would I mind? I wouldn’t mind if you did that forever,” she whispered, and he smiled and kissed her again, the hand on her face wrapping around to the back of her neck, the other hand resting on her waist. Her hands began sliding up and down his arms as she became more confident in her kissing. They sat kissing like that for a few minutes before Sherlock II came back and mewed at them. They ended the kiss and looked down at him while he stared up at them rather crossly. 

“It’s getting late,” Lestrade sighed. They both had a lot to do the next day. Greg brought the wine glasses to the kitchen and gathered up everything he had brought, and Holly walked him to the door. He gave her one more gentle kiss before promising to call her the next day and leaving her to go to bed feeling happier than she had in years.


	26. Mandy and Sherlock Deduce

Sherlock was in his flat twiddling on his microscope. John was on his computer, typing a blog entry about one of his flat mate’s cases. 

“Interesting,” Sherlock said, not really aware of whether John was there or not. Fortunately, John was there, so Sherlock wasn’t talking to himself.

“What’s interesting?” John asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know. 

“I need Mandy,” Sherlock said, not answering John’s question. He lifted his head from his microscope and put his hands in front of his lips. 

“You need—I’m sorry, what?” 

“I need Mandy,” Sherlock repeated, a bit more impatiently. 

“Oh, dear god. It’s finally happened. This is what it’s like when Sherlock Holmes likes a woman.” 

“What are you on about? I need a second opinion.” 

“No. If you needed a second opinion, you’d ask me, I’m right here.” 

“I need an intelligent second opinion,” Sherlock explained. John ignored the insult – he was used to it. 

“Admit it, Sherlock. You fancy her.” 

“Don’t be tiresome, John, I haven’t the time. Text her for me.” 

“What? Why can’t you text her?” 

“I’m busy,” he said, returning to his microscope. John, good wingman that he was, grabbed Sherlock’s phone off the desk and sent the text: 

My flat, please come immediately. – SH

“There, I’ve texted her for you. Now, I’m going out so that I don’t have to listen to you two flirting,” he said, grabbing his wallet and leaving the flat. About ten minutes later, Mandy arrived and let herself in. 

“What do you want?” she asked. He didn’t answer for a moment, then suddenly looked up. 

“Ah, yes. Look there, tell me what you see,” he said, offering her the microscope. She took a look. 

“It’s blood,” she shrugged. “Whose—you know what, I don’t want to know. Is there a real reason you wanted me here?” 

“I was bored.” 

“You have a flat mate.” 

“He left.” 

“I see. How can you be bored? The Stratwood case is still unsolved.” 

“Yes, but I need someone to bounce ideas off of. Now, the victims so far: Daniel Shannon, Jessica Shale, Michael Culver, and Peter Halloway. All people who tried to hurt or insult Holly Shannon. Obviously you and I know Mrs. Shannon didn’t do it; too much bad press for Stratwood, but someone either wanted it to look like she’s the killer, or someone is trying to get her attention. The next victim is someone who is stealing money, and Mrs. Shannon knows that money is missing from Stratwood’s funding. Obviously it has to be someone associated with the show, someone with access to the account. Why would anyone who works on Stratwood want to take money from it?” Sherlock paused for breath and Mandy continued right where he left off. 

“Because they’re working on a different show, one that they feel deserves it more; and if I read the headlines correctly this morning, BBC’s The Cassidy Chronicles just received an anonymous donation of £8,000, a similar amount to what Holly reported as missing from Stratwood’s budget. The head writer of The Cassidy Chronicles is…of course!” 

“Marcia Kitwin. One of the writers working under Holly Shannon on Stratwood.” 

“Marcia Kitwin stole funding from Stratwood and anonymously donated it to The Cassidy Chronicles, which she’s more invested in because she’s the head writer!” Mandy said excitedly. Sherlock was also excited by now, and put his hands on Mandy’s shoulders. 

“Aha! You’re just as clever as I am, I knew it!” 

“At least you’re admitting it now. And here I thought you didn’t like me.” At this remark of Mandy’s, Sherlock got a deeply hurt look on his face and stared at her with confusion. 

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t share my microscope.” 

“Oh. Well, if I didn’t think you’re brilliant, I wouldn’t have come,” she said sassily, looking into his microscope again.


	27. Dimmock Interrupts

Lestrade and Holly were snuggled on the couch with Sherlock II, watching Stratwood. Greg had never seen the show, and now that they were dating, he thought it was about time he watch some. He thought the show was fantastic, from the 1920s costumes and sets to the main character, girl crime solver Margaret Blythe, to the gripping murder mystery plots. However, soon he had other plans in mind and turned her face to his so that he could kiss her. 

She turned her body so that she could kiss him back. Within a few moments, the show was forgotten while they kissed each other languidly. The truth was, neither of them had gotten to feel a physical connection to anyone in a long time, so although they hadn’t been dating very long, things began to escalate quickly. Greg’s tongue slipped into Holly’s mouth and she curled her hands into fistfuls of his hair. His mouth left hers and began kissing a path down her neck. When he reached her collarbone, he started to undo the top button of her blouse. 

“Wait, Greg,” she tensed up. He lifted his mouth from her skin and removed his hands from her shirt. 

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away,” he apologized.

“No, it’s not that…it’s just…it’s been a long time…and whenever…whenever I was with Daniel, he was always sort of…rough…and selfish...” Holly blushed and looked down into her lap, too embarrassed to look at him. When she glanced up, he was looking at her in disbelief.

“Oh god, really?” Holly looked down again but Greg lifted her chin so that he could look into her face. “Holly, I will never do anything you don’t want me to. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. And if and when that time comes, I promise to be gentle,” he vowed, placing a hand on the back of her head and kissing her forehead sweetly. 

“Thank you, Greg. You’re amazing,” she sighed with relief. She pulled him in for another passionate kiss when there was a knock on the door. She ended the kiss and sighed with exasperation. “I’d better see who it is, it might be important.” When she opened the door, she was surprised to see DI Dimmock there.

“Inspector?” she asked confusedly, smoothing out her hair. He let himself in and there was an awkward moment as the two DIs looked at each other. Lestrade had traces of her lipstick on his mouth and his hair was sticking out oddly in a few places. Dimmock visibly rolled his eyes and gave Lestrade a rather snide look. 

“Lestrade,” he acknowledged. 

“Dimmock,” Lestrade returned coldly. Sherlock II gave Dimmock a very snooty look, then jumped off the couch, lifted his tail toward the DI, and stalked away. 

“Can I help you, Detective Inspector?” Holly asked Dimmock politely. 

“One of your writers, Marcia Kitwin, was found dead on the railroad tracks at Fenchurch today. You know anything about it?” 

“No, nothing. Only that she was stealing money from Stratwood’s budget,” Holly said. That she was sure of – it had to be her. It was the only thing that made sense with the pattern of these serial murders. 

“Well, it seems to be obvious that you had reason to be unhappy with her, then, doesn’t it?” Dimmock said snarkily. 

“I…I guess so…”

“Now, hang on, Dimmock, just what are you trying to imply?” Lestrade demanded. 

“Nothing…yet,” Dimmock eyed Holly suspiciously. “I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Shannon,” he added ominously, then let himself out. When he was gone, they sat back down and Holly collapsed into tears against Greg’s chest. He stroked her hair and gave her soft kisses on occasion, then just held her until they both fell asleep on the couch.


	28. Molly Gives Her Blessing

Sherlock entered the morgue. 

“Hi, Sherlock,” Molly smiled. Mandy just continued examining the corpse of Marcia Kitwin. 

“Molly…you colored your hair. It’s redder now.” 

“What? No, I didn’t…it’s the light…” Molly stammered. She’d been trying to be a bit more like Mandy, if she were being honest. However, Sherlock just let the issue go and moved on to Mandy, leaving Molly to sigh sadly. 

“We were too slow,” Mandy pointed out, indicating Marcia’s body. “Someone was a step ahead of us.” 

“Oh…have you been helping Sherlock with a case?” Molly asked. “That’s…nice.” 

“Moriarty,” Sherlock said. Molly and Mandy looked at him, then Molly gave Mandy an awkward look. They had both had flings with Jim from IT at a certain point, and both been informed of his true identity. Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text. 

Why are you doing this? – SH

A moment later, he received a reply. 

Glad you finally caught on. Care to join the show? – JM

“He’s behind this,” Sherlock informed them both. “But why?” 

“Perhaps he was hired,” Mandy said. 

“A fan. It’s a fan of Stratwood. Why didn’t I see it before?” Sherlock demanded excitedly. “I thought it was someone who dislikes Holly Shannon, no. No, it’s someone who loves her, who’s obsessed with her. The victims are all someone who has been unkind to her in some way, the killer is avenging her by murdering them,” he finished. 

“The question is, who’s next?” Mandy pointed out. Sherlock decided he wanted to think so he informed the girls that he was going back to 221B and invited Mandy to join him when she got off work before leaving the morgue. 

“So…you and Sherlock have been spending a lot of time together,” Molly observed. “Been working on the case?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you two…involved?” This was the most tactful wording she could muster. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing…I just…I didn’t know if you were dating or not...oh, sorry, it’s none of my business…” 

“Dating? No, I haven’t the time.” Molly was silent for a few moments while Mandy continued to work. After a minute, Molly said. 

“I think it’s great…that he has you in his life.” Although Molly had feelings for Sherlock herself, she felt that Mandy was much better suited for him. They gave each other what the other needed. Not understanding, Mandy just gave her a curious look, then the two women continued working.


	29. Sherlock and Mandy Sleep

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John asked as he watched Sherlock clean a bunch of surgical tools he had for some reason. 

“I’m expecting Mandy.” 

“I am going to pray that you two are using that scalpel for an experiment on a dead body part.” 

Mandy walked in with a bag of ears and they immediately began cutting at them. They multitasked – experimenting, but brainstorming about the Stratwood case while they worked. This went on for a few hours. John left for a bit to go for a walk and came back rather late to find that Sherlock and Mandy had barely moved. 

“Don’t you think you two should get some sleep?” 

“Sleep?” Mandy tilted her head, but then nodded. “Yes, that seems like a good idea.” 

“I’m fine. You may use my bed,” Sherlock said without looking up, but pointing her in the right direction. 

“Sherlock, if I need sleep, you need sleep. Come to bed this instant,” Mandy demanded, already halfway through the kitchen. Sherlock looked frustrated, but stood up and followed her, and a moment later they had gone into Sherlock’s room, both stripped off all their clothes without a second thought, and crawled into bed next to one another. John was still sitting in the green chair in the living room with a newspaper. 

“Sherlock Holmes has a beautiful woman in his bed, and I am sitting by myself talking to a newspaper,” he muttered.


	30. Greg and Holly Sleep

Lestrade was in his office late – almost everyone else had gone home. He was working so hard trying to figure out this case for Holly. He didn’t want her to have to worry any more, and he didn’t want anyone else getting killed. However, it was definitely starting to stress him out. He was tired and it was late. As he was rubbing his eyes, his phone rang. It was Holly. 

“Lestrade,” he answered out of habit. 

“Hello, I need to speak to a handsome detective,” Holly flirted. Greg smiled – it was great to hear her voice. 

“Not my division,” he teased. 

“Are you sure? He has brown eyes and a fantastic smile…” 

“That might be my division.” 

“I’m feeling terribly un-kissed…”

“That is definitely my division.” 

“In that case, you’re more than welcome to come investigate the situation.” 

“I’m on my way,” he said. He hurried into a cab and rode to Holly’s flat. When she opened the door he took off his coat and hung it up, and then walked with her into the living room where there was better lighting and put a hand under her chin, turning her head first one way and then the other. “Hmm…I believe you’re right, you do look kiss deprived,” he agreed before lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly and romantically, savoring the feeling of her lips. He backed them to the couch and they lowered themselves onto it, him half on top of her. Their tongues began exploring each other’s mouths as his hands slid up and down her sides. His hands moved to her arms and gently ran up them. She broke the kiss and glanced at his hands before he remembered that Daniel had abused her on her arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, moving his hands away and sitting up to get off of her. 

“No…it’s fine,” she smiled. “It just…sometimes things bring back memories…” she sat up too. “Maybe I just need new memories.” She lifted his arm and snuggled under it into his chest, and he wrapped it around her, stroking his fingertips gently up and down her forearm. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, placing a kiss into her hair. 

“Yes. It’s different,” she admitted. She was trying to work on trusting someone again and returning to her former happy self, and this was one of the things she knew she needed to work on. They sat like this and watched Stratwood until Holly got tired. 

“I’ll go and let you get some sleep,” Lestrade said, sitting up. 

“You…” Holly blushed. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Lestrade smiled. 

“Alright,” he agreed. They went into her bedroom and she changed into pajamas while he took off his work clothes and put them over a chair. They still hadn’t slept together yet, but she didn’t feel too weird about changing in front of him. She got into bed and he got in next to her in his boxers and spooned her. She had just enough time to reach over and turn off the bedside lamp before she fell asleep in his arms.


	31. Sherlock and Mandy Gain Health Benefits

Mandy opened her eyes to find Sherlock’s face about two inches away from hers. He was still sleeping, his dark curls falling over his forehead. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal his crystalline blue eyes. He didn’t seem startled to find her face so close to his. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked. 

“Yes, very well.” 

“Good,” he said. Mandy responded by pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back questioningly, and then she broke the kiss and he looked at her curiously. “I’m flattered, but I consider myself married to my work—” he started. 

“I’m not asking you to marry me. I was just wondering if you wanted to have sex. You’re already aware of the benefits.” He looked rather thoughtful for a moment, rolling onto his back and putting his hands in front of his lips. 

“It would be something new,” he reasoned. “Alright.” He agreed to it and rolled back over to face her again. She kissed him again, needing no more encouragement. He moved his lips over hers, and she opened her mouth to admit his tongue. His extensive knowledge of human anatomy meant that his tongue knew all the best places to touch in her mouth, and she moaned against his lips. Her fingertips traced up and down his neck and he sighed. With this encouragement, her lips released his and she started kissing her way down his neck, sucking on the skin. When this caused him to let out a gasp, she experimented with sinking her teeth into the side of his neck. For this she received a deep moan. She could feel his excitement against her leg and he rolled on top of her. He tried the same treatment on her neck, and she breathed heavily. 

“Ear,” she gasped. 

“What?” he asked, lifting his head for a moment. 

“Bite my ear.” 

He didn’t ask why, he just did it, and she moaned loudly. He continued kissing his way down her neck, pausing to suck on the skin on her collarbone and then making his way down past her sternum. Fortunately, John was out of the flat that morning, so he wasn’t around to hear the noises that ensued from then on. 

John came home that afternoon to find Sherlock in a sheet and Mandy wearing Sherlock’s dressing gown. He looked back and forth between them for a moment, then decided that for the sake of his own sanity, he shouldn’t ask. 

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson came running in. “There’s been another murder!” John turned on the telly to see the news report – one of Holly’s neighbors, Candace Dawson had been decapitated with an axe. It matched the pattern. It was quite similar to the next aired episode of Stratwood. 

“That neighbor hated Holly,” Mandy said thoughtfully. Holly had told her about it once. 

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said, meaning that they should go to the crime scene. He and Mandy went to put on clothes, and left immediately.


	32. Holly's Arrest

That evening Holly was at Greg’s flat. They had cooked dinner together and were now cuddling with some wine and telling each other funny stories from their pasts. A knock came at the door and Greg got up and put his wine glass on the table. Holly stretched out on the couch to be more comfortable, when she heard some arguing at the door. 

“What right have you got to barge in here?” Lestrade demanded. A moment later, DI Dimmock and a police sergeant pushed their way past Lestrade and found Holly. She put her wine down and stood up, looking concerned, when Dimmock spoke. 

“Holly Shannon, you’re under arrest for the murders of Daniel Shannon, Jessica Shale, Michael Culver, Peter Halloway, Marcia Kitwin, and Candace Dawson,” he recited. The sergeant handcuffed her wrists behind her back. 

“What?!” Holly shouted, tears in her eyes. “What’s going on? I didn’t do anything!” 

“A bloody axe was found in your home. The blood matched that of Candace Dawson,” Dimmock said impatiently. 

“I don’t know how it got there, I didn’t even know she was killed! Someone must have broken in—”

“Save it for the judge,” Dimmock replied. 

“Now, hang on, Dimmock, there’s got to be some explanation—”

“You let your love life get in the way of your work. I’m not going to make that mistake,” Dimmock interrupted. 

“Greg, I didn’t do anything,” Holly said desperately, tears pouring down her face. 

“I know. I know that,” he told her in a comforting voice. Dimmock and the sergeant grabbed Holly roughly by the arms, making her flinch and cry harder, the memories of Daniel hurting her arms came rushing back to her mind and she sobbed. 

“Hey, take it easy, Dimmock! You’re hurting her,” Lestrade shouted, but they were already dragging Holly into the car. Lestrade threw on his coat and pulled out his phone to call Sherlock immediately as he left his flat.


	33. The Crime is Solved

“Hurry up!” Lestrade demanded. He was in 221B with Sherlock. John and Lestrade were staring at the computer screen over Sherlock’s shoulder as he searched. 

“I’ve got it,” Sherlock announced. He had found the hardware store where the model of the murder axe was sold. He grabbed his coat and scarf and Greg and John followed him out. They got into a cab and arrived quickly at the store. They went to the counter impatiently. 

“What can I help you boys with?” the old man behind the counter asked. 

“You recently sold an axe, serial number X711149389JY3. I need to know who bought it,” Sherlock told him.

“What day was it?” 

“I don’t know, just look it up.” 

“Alright, son, keep your shirt on.” The man clicked on the ancient computer in front of him. “What did you say the number was?” 

“X711149389JY3.” As Sherlock said each character of the code slowly, the man typed it in. 

“It was sold to a man named Herbert Weston. Odd guy, if I recall. Kept talking about someone named Holly.”

“That’s our guy,” John said to Sherlock. They got the man to print them the information. The consulting detective turned to leave, John following behind. 

“Thank you,” Lestrade said earnestly to the man before following. 

The three men stood on the street while Sherlock was looking up Herbert Weston on the internet on his phone. He found an address and they got back into the cab to pay him a visit. Lestrade pounded on the door. 

“Herbert Weston?” 

“Yes?” The mousy man said. 

“We write for The Observer, we wanted to interview Holly Shannon’s biggest fan,” Sherlock said with a smile. 

He let them inside. When they entered the small flat, they saw a massive shrine to Holly. Pictures of her were plastered everywhere, cluttering the place. Stratwood was playing on his TV. He had every article written about her cut out and strewn everywhere. He had recordings of all her interviews labeled on a shelf next to the TV.

“You’re sick,” Lestrade said in disbelief, looking at all this. “You’re obsessed with Holly.” 

“I wanted Holly to love me. I don’t know why she doesn’t. I killed everyone who hurt her. But she wasn’t grateful for it.” 

“She was accused of it! She got arrested!” John said. 

“She should have loved me,” Herbert replied. “Now she can sit and rot. I changed her life.” 

“You had help,” Sherlock said. It was obvious – for one, this man was too unstable to hide his tracks so well, and for another, Moriarty had admitted to being involved. 

“I believe that’s my business,” Herbert said. 

“You killed six people to get Holly’s attention?” Lestrade asked. 

“I had to do something big you know. She gets tons of fan letters. I wanted to be special.” 

“Special. That’s one word for it, yeah,” John muttered. 

“You can’t prove anything, though. Holly will die wondering who killed all those people for her, and I can have the satisfaction of knowing it was me.” This left the three men silent for a moment, staring at him. Then, Sherlock abruptly turned his head to John. 

“You get that?” 

“Yeah, I got it all,” the army doctor replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He’d been recording the whole time. 

“What are you talking about?” Herbert asked. Lestrade flashed his badge and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. 

“Herbert Weston, you’re under arrest.” 

“You tricked me!” he shouted angrily.

“You confessed to murdering six people in front of complete strangers. Not much trickery was required,” Sherlock pointed out as they dragged him away.


	34. A Visitor

Holly’s cell was opened and she looked up, her face stained with tears. 

“Holly Shannon? You’ve got a visitor.” 

She stood up. Who would be visiting her? It must be Greg. Thank goodness. She was led to a room, but inside it was a man she had never seen before wearing a nice suit. The guard left and closed the door behind him. 

“Hello…?” she said, the question in her voice. 

“Hi, Holly! I’m Jim Moriarty. I just love your show!” he said cheerfully.

“You’re a fan?” she asked suspiciously. “How did you know I was here? Is it on the news already?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I do know a fan, though. You’ve got quite the admirer.” 

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” 

“I told you my name a minute ago, you really don’t remember?” he said sassily. 

“I think you should leave,” she said coldly. Suddenly, his creepily playful demeanor changed and was replaced by calculating cruelty. His face became stone cold and he slowly walked around behind her and brushed her hair aside to speak into her ear. 

“I think you should listen to me very carefully. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here. I could slit your pretty little throat right here and now if I wanted to and walk out of here without question. You may be a television personality, but you are nothing.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” she bluffed. 

“Oh, but you’re forgetting one thing. You people are all so predictable. No concern at all for your own life. Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to visit your precious Greg.” 

“What do you want from me? Stay away from him!” she teared up. 

“Shhh,” he whispered into her ear. “Relax. I won’t touch Greg Lestrade. He’s not the one I’m interested in. Oh, look at that, I’ve been here longer than I thought,” he suddenly said as if he hadn’t just threatened the lives of her and her boyfriend. “I’d better be going. Byeeee!” he cooed as he left the room. The guard escorted Holly back to her cell as tears ran down her face.


	35. Holly Won't Rest

The chief superintendent gave Dimmock a disapproving look once the confession was presented. He sent Greg away to escort Herbert to Pentonville. 

Holly was released and given her clothes and other belongings. When she walked out, she was met by Greg, John, and Sherlock. She ran to Greg and threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. 

“How did you all figure it out?” she asked, pulling away to press a kiss on Greg’s lips. Lestrade told her the whole story as they left the prison. John and Sherlock got into one cab to return to 221B while Greg and Holly took another. When they got to Holly’s flat and went inside, Greg wasted no time in pulling her close and kissing her soundly. She slid her tongue past his lips and he held her even tighter. Finally, he broke the kiss and scooped her up into his arms. 

“Come on. You need rest,” he said, walking her to the bedroom. 

“No I don’t,” she said, raising her head to start kissing up his neck. 

“Yes you do. You’ve gone through a lot in the past few weeks and you need to relax,” he said stubbornly, laying her on the bed and kicking off his shoes to get in with her. “I’ll be right here,” he promised. She immediately rolled over to him and returned to kissing his neck, this time working on undoing the top button of his shirt. She placed her lips behind his ear and he gasped. 

“Holly, you…you need to rest…” he tried, but his stubbornness was melting away. 

“I’ll rest when I’m good and ready to,” she said against his neck. “You can either lie next to me while I stare at the ceiling…or I can keep doing this and see what happens.” 

“Well…now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind seeing how this turns out,” he admitted as she worked on the second button. With this encouragement, she returned her mouth to his, kissing him slowly and passionately. Their tongues tangled together as she finished the rest of his buttons and tossed his shirt away. She rolled on top of him and started kissing her way across his collarbone and down his chest, digging her fingernails into his shoulders and getting a moan. His hand slid down her back and she gasped when his fingers brushed over her lower spine. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked. 

“Do it again,” she instructed, moving her mouth back to his. He brushed his fingers over the spot on her lower back again, and she moaned into his mouth. He quickly got her dress off and started gently kissing a path down her neck and over her cleavage, all the while teasing the lower part of her spine. She began whimpering with desire and quickly undid his belt, and he raised his hips to allow her to get rid of his trousers. Within a matter of moments, the last remaining garments were discarded.


	36. Sherlock Has to Be the Best

Sherlock and John returned to 221B to find Mandy sitting on the couch. They were always leaving their door open, so it was easy for anyone to walk right in. 

“Hello,” John said politely, giving Sherlock a questioning look. “Holly’s been freed. Greg took her home.”

“That’s a relief,” Mandy said genuinely. She really did like Holly. Sherlock joined Mandy on the couch. 

“Well, I’ve got a date,” John said, looking at the time, “so I won’t be back for a—” he got distracted when Mandy moved the fabric of Sherlock’s scarf down and bit him on the side of the neck, and he gave her a wicked grin. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

“Nothing important, John,” Sherlock said while Mandy was kissing along his neck, the fingers of her free hand threaded into his hair. 

“Right. Well. I’ll be going now,” John said, leaving the flat faster than he ever had before. With him gone, Sherlock tackled Mandy down on the couch and ravished her mouth with his. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and inserted his tongue for a thorough exploration, holding her wrists down. His mouth left hers to bite her ear. 

“Bed,” she instructed, and he quickly got up and threw her over his shoulder, bringing her into his bedroom and tossing her down onto the bed. He immediately pulled her shirt off over her head, then unhooked her bra and tossed it away. He still hadn’t even taken off his coat and scarf yet. Sherlock held her wrists while he played with her earlobe in his mouth. A moment later, he had straddled her and was pulling his scarf off of his neck. He tied her wrists together with it, then tied them to his headboard. Once this task was finished, he removed the bottom half of her clothing and his hands and mouth immediately began exploring as much skin as they could reach.

“Sherlock, your clothes,” she begged. He stood up and she watched him remove his coat and shoes, but the rest of his clothes were still completely intact as he returned to tease her more. It took some maneuvering, but when he went to bite her earlobe again, she managed to sink her teeth into his neck. He moaned loudly and she could feel his excitement grow through his trousers. His mouth returned to hers, kissing her passionately while his hands moved to her chest, when suddenly he raised his head and looked at her quite seriously. 

“Am I better than Moriarty?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“Moriarty, you had sex with him. Am I better?” 

“Does it really matter?” she asked in disbelief. He was seriously bringing this up now?

“Who was better, him or me?” he demanded to know. 

“I don’t know, about the same,” she said, not knowing how else to really answer. With this, Sherlock got a rather devilish look in his eyes and stood up, quickly removing all of his clothes and returning to the bed, making her beg for him before he finally gave in to his own desire.


	37. Chapter 37

Sherlock waited in his flat for Mandy to arrive the following afternoon for more experiments. When she didn’t arrive at the time they had arranged, Sherlock was a bit confused. It wasn’t like Mandy to be late. He assumed she had gotten delayed in traffic or had stayed at work later than expected and didn’t think much about it. However, soon he started to worry. He sent her a text and didn’t get a reply. He called Molly, Holly, John, Lestrade…no one had seen or heard from her. Finally, he decided to try video chat in case she was at home and had forgotten or something. She answered, and he sighed with relief, but when the window opened, it wasn’t her face he saw, but Moriarty’s. 

“Hello gorgeous!” he said flirtatiously. “I borrowed something of yours. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“What have you done with her?” 

“The same thing you’ve done with her, if I’m not mistaken,” he replied, looking suggestively into the camera. Something like anger, but not quite the same, began bubbling up inside Sherlock. Jealousy? “You’re a lucky man,” he taunted, pulling Mandy into the frame, tied up in a rolling computer chair and gagged. “She is fantastic, isn’t she?” he said, coming up behind her and flicking his tongue over her neck. She cringed. Sherlock’s knuckles turned white as his hands balled into tight fists. He felt his jaw harden. How dare Moriarty touch his woman?   
Huh. When had she become his woman? The thought crossed his mind and he realized that somehow he had actually developed feelings for Mandy, and he didn’t want her to be with any man except him. 

“Well, we had our fun, but she’s obviously waiting for you, Sherlock. I can’t say I blame her. You’d better come get her before I change my mind.”

“Why are you doing this?” 

“I just wanted to see you squirm,” he almost whispered. “And you are squirming, Sherlock. I can see it in those pretty blue eyes of yours. Mandy here might make you scream but I’m the only one who can make you squirm.” Suddenly, his terrifying voice changed back to its cheery sound. “Well, I’ve got things to do. I know you won’t keep me waiting. Tootles!” and with that, the video chat closed. 

Sherlock wasted no time in rushing to Mandy’s flat. He untied her and brought her back to 221B, where she would feel safer for the night. 

“May I take a shower?” she asked. She felt a bit dirty from the Moriarty experience. 

“Yes. Towels are under the sink,” he told her. She went into the bathroom and had just gotten under the wonderfully warm water. She lathered up her hair, enjoying the familiar smell of Sherlock’s shampoo. As she was rinsing the shampoo away, the curtain moved aside and Sherlock stepped in with her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, although she didn’t mind. 

“I wanted to say something. The door was open,” he said indifferently. 

“I see.” Mandy shrugged and reached around him to grab the soap. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

“I thought you were married to your work.” 

“I am, but you don’t get in the way of my work. In fact, you help me with it.” 

“Are you trying to say that you have romantic feelings toward me?” 

“It’s perfectly logical. We have similar interests, things in common, we’re sexually compatible, and you don’t annoy me or get in the way of my work.” 

“I suppose it makes sense, yes,” Mandy agreed. “Besides, your work can’t do this,” she added, pulling his head to hers and kissing him deeply, her hands sliding over his wet chest. When she broke the kiss, he gazed down at her. 

“No, my work has certainly never done that. It would be a bit disturbing if it did, since my work mostly involves corpses,” he pointed out, his face completely serious. She looked at him for a moment, and then they burst into laughter. They finished their shower and dried off, then wrapped themselves up in towels and went to Sherlock’s bedroom. 

As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed the edge of her towel from behind and removed it from her in one swift motion, coming behind her and kissing her neck while his hands felt her chest. She turned around and pulled his head down to hers, lips and tongues moving together as she grabbed his towel and tossed it away. They moved to the bed, still kissing, and he lowered himself on top of her, moving his mouth to play with her earlobe. He reached one of his long arms over the edge of the bed and grabbed something, then sat up and showed her what it was. 

“Is that a riding crop?” she asked, her eyes widening, but her face lighting up a bit. He simply responded by sliding the leather over her skin, starting on the side of her face and sliding down her neck, her chest, and the rest of her body. 

“You never answered my question in the shower,” he pointed out. 

“You didn’t ask me a question in the shower,” she gasped. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he reminded her. 

“But you didn’t ask,” she said, breathing heavily and reaching for him. He used one of his hands to pin her wrists above her head on the bed, the other one still operating the riding crop. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered, her voice a bit squeaky. He kissed her passionately and affectionately before tying her up and making better use of the riding crop.


	38. Sexy in the Morning

Holly opened her eyes and found her head laying on Greg’s bare chest, his arm wrapped around her back while his other hand was stroking gently up and down her arm. She lifted her head to smile up at him, his chocolate eyes gazing at her lovingly. 

“Good morning,” he said, lowering his head to capture her lips in a lazy, romantic morning kiss. She kissed him back affectionately, her hands sliding up his neck and into his hair as he began fiddling with the spot on her lower back. She moaned into his mouth before he released her lips and began kissing a line down her neck. 

“Greg,” she gasped. “It’s morning.” 

“Yes,” he said into her neck, not really understanding what she was talking about.

“I’m not sexy in the morning,” she whispered as he kissed the top of her chest, preparing to move the sheet out of the way. 

“Where would you get an idea like that?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her. She blushed and he stared at her in disbelief before kissing her lips again. His tongue slid over hers for a moment, and then his mouth left hers and he took her hand, gently kissing his way up her arm, starting at the wrist. He felt so honored that she trusted him, and letting him touch her arms after they had been so badly hurt by her husband was one of the signs of that trust. As he kissed his way across her arm, he murmured against her skin in between kisses. “Holly Shannon…you are the most beautiful…incredible…enchanting…sexy…woman I’ve ever met.” She smiled at him and he kissed her lips briefly again before returning his mouth to the top of her chest, moving the sheet out of the way as he showed her exactly how sexy he found her in the morning.


	39. Stratwood

Greg and Holly were cuddled on the couch in Holly’s flat and John was sitting in a chair eating a biscuit that Holly had made. Mrs. Hudson had also been invited and was sitting on the other side of the couch from Holly and Greg. 

“Dear, these biscuits are delightful,” she said to Holly. 

“I’ll give you the recipe,” Holly promised. 

They were about to watch the first episode of the new series of Stratwood. Once her name had been publicly cleared on the serial killings, her show had been more popular than ever. 

“Where are Sherlock and Mandy?” Greg asked. 

“Mandy said they were coming,” Holly shrugged. Right on cue, there was a knock on the door and Holly started to get up. However, John stood and motioned for her to stay where she was. 

“I’ll get it,” he offered. He let Sherlock and Mandy in, and he, Greg, and Holly stared. Both Sherlock’s neck and Mandy’s were covered in dark marks obviously left over from some amorous activities. “Sherlock. What’s going on?” John asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two are covered in love bites.” Sherlock just looked at John like he didn’t understand what his problem was. “Are you two…have you…is she your girlfriend?” 

“Obviously,” Sherlock and Mandy said in unison. Mrs. Hudson beamed while Greg and Holly just exchanged a look. John sat back down while Sherlock sat in a chair, pulling Mandy into his lap. Deciding his life had gotten to strange to deal with at the moment, he grabbed another biscuit. 

“So. Stratwood, then,” he said, right before the new episode began.


End file.
